


linktober: along with the chill

by acaiis



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Baking, Bonding, Flashbacks, Fluff, Homesick, Hurt/Comfort, I don’t know shit I just make things up, Linktober, Linktober 2020, Major character death - Freeform, Mostly Sky centric pieces, Oneshot, Platonic Relationships, Scars, Selectively Mute Wild (Linked Universe), Sheik (Legend of Zelda) is a Separate Character, Unresolved Ending, angst no comfort, funeral rites, midna has (had) two hands, platonic partners, prompt list, to make it a little better, you can pry the midzel from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:06:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26834158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acaiis/pseuds/acaiis
Summary: My LU! linktober 2020 collection! Mostly because I have no self control and miss the boys.
Relationships: Link/Midna (Legend of Zelda), Link/Midna/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Midna/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 69
Kudos: 77





	1. pumpkin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of fall, and thinking of home.

The autumn sun was warm at their backs, a slight breeze bringing a chill despite the clear day. In the distance, just over the tops of the trees, they can see smoke rising lazily into the sky, promising warmth in some form. Sky can smell fall in the air -- the cool crispness of it, the decaying leaves, the dew that seems to hang off of every leaf and blade of grass.

It’s always been his favorite time of year, autumn. In Skyloft it was beautiful -- the changing of the leaves bringing change to the islands. For most of the year, it was sunny and bright, and their winters only brought dead foliage and none of the snow the surface got. But in fall, the trees were set aflame with color. Even after so many years of it, Sky eagerly awaited for fall come each summer’s end. 

“The trees break just up ahead,” Warriors calls back, and the others nod or mumble a thanks. Sky glances around at the others, a bit surprised at the low spirits some of them seem to hold at the moment. Wind is rubbing his arms, hunched over and muttering angrily to himself, and Four is sniffing every few seconds, breaking the scowl on his face. He figures that they may not be as used to the cold -- his winters had always been harsh, without the clouds to hold the heat in. 

The trees give way to rolling fields, the roofs of a village just visible over the crests of the hills. Urged on by the promise of rest and a warm place to stay, they pick up their pace. It must be a large village, probably a town, if the amount of farmland is anything to go off of. The plains are littered with rich plots of wheat and rice, stretching near as far as they can see. Occasionally there will be a lone home on a hillside, surrounded by fences and small dots that he assumes are livestock of some sort. 

It’s not too terribly far, and the sun is still fairly high in the sky, so he’s a bit put out at how briskly the few of them are focing the group to walk. Were he alone, he’d most likely be taking his time, thinking about the possibilities for the surface back home. Skyloft was near and dear to him, yes, but the prospect of the Surface was a greater opportunity. They had to head down at some point, if everyone else’s Hyrules were anything to go off of. 

He’s deep in thought, lost in fantasies and memories of home, when his eye is caught by a smidge of orange. Blinking a couple of times, clearing his head, he finds the little detail again -- 

“Pumpkins!” he mutters to himself, grinning. It made him miss home just a bit more dearly, with his previous train of thought, but the excitement at seeing the orange gourd exceeds his homesickness for the moment. 

“Sorry?” Four asks, glancing back at Sky, and the taller hero shakes his head. 

“Pumpkins,” he says, gesturing, and Four squints at them. 

“Those things? Never cared much for them. Sky furrows his brow. 

“Really? I waited all year for them.”

Four shrugs, rubbing at his arms and sniffing again. 

Sky glances longingly back at them, wanting to stop and enjoy the little piece of what feels like home before the opportunity passes them by. Unfortunately for him, bothering the others is more of a concern, so he says nothing. 

“Aw, dang it!” Wild groans, dropping his head to the table. Sky glances over, finishing off the glass of water he’d graciously accepted from the waitress a few minutes ago. 

“I’m sure someone sells them here in town, cub,” Twilight says, looking a bit exasperated.

_ “Fresh,”  _ Wild signs above his head, and Twilight sighs through his nose. 

“What’s fresh?” Sky asks, and Wild whines. 

“He forgot to mention he wanted pumpkins when we passed the patch earlier,” Twilight says, glancing over at Wild with a look that says he has been listening to the boy’s complaints for the last few minutes. 

“Oh! Those aren’t too far back, are they?”

“No, but I don’t want him going off on his own with the influx of infected monsters lately.”

“I have _ guardians _ in my Hyrule,” Wild protests, and Twilight sends him another flat look.

“I’ll go with him,” Sky shrugs, and Wild’s head pops up. Twilight sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Fine. Just be back before it gets too dark out, or Time will bite my head off.”

Sky sends a private grin Wild’s way and the pair of them stand, gathering their things. 

“Do you have pumpkins back in your Hyrule, then?” Wild is asking as they travel back down along the road. Sky nods, humming. 

“Yes. I used to help out there, sometimes.” 

“You have Sheikah in your Hyrule, right? In mine it’s a delicacy of theirs. Pumpkin stew… great for before fights with heavy hitters.”

“Huh. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Wild nods, falling silent and gazing around at their surroundings in the way he so often does. Sky’s noticed it before, and wonders if it’s due to how dangerous his Hyrule is or if it's for some other reason -- taking in what he can, trying to fill the voids in his memory. 

The pumpkins are sprawled over the ground, vibrantly green vines twisting over the ground. Sky grins at the familiar sight, breathing in the scent of mulch and growing things. 

“Find the biggest one?” WIld grins, glancing over at him. 

“Oh, I’ll win,” he grins back, and they dart off into the field. 

A while later, he’s laughing at Wild, who had initially won the impromptu competition but lost when he dropped the gourd. Really, carrying it over his head hadn’t been the brightest of ideas. When his laughs peter off her helps Wild scan his pumpkin into the Slate, opting to sit down and let Wild be over-particular about the other ones he decides to take. Sky could never understand the difference between “good” and “bad” fruits and vegetables, but Wild swore up and down that it was a science. 

He ends up on the ground, arms resting over a pumpkin hes drawn into his lap, watching Wild wander about. The breeze that had been present all day nips at hs face, turning his cheeks pink, and he flexes his fingers to keep them warm. The pumpkins are a lovely shade of orange, with the low sun’s light glancing off of them, the vines seeming as green as the ones he remembers from home. 

When Wild finishes up, he takes a seat by Sky, tilting his head up toward the sun. he sighs, after a moment, seeming more content than Sky thinks he normally was. 

“Reminds me of Kakariko,” he murmurs, eyes still closed. “Paya and I like to sit on the fence and talk.”

“The one at home is like this,” Sky says after a few minutes. “I’ve always liked fall the most. Pumpkin pie’s my favorite.” 

“Pie?” Wild says, head lolling up. “I can make that.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. Paya taught me how. ‘S one of my favoites as far a sweets go.” 

“Could you maybe teach me?” Sky asks, smiling a bit nervously at the thought of trying to learn. “It’d be nice to surprise Zelda with.”

Wild nods emphatically, grinnining. 

“Of course! We can do it tonight if the inkeep is kind enough to let us use her kitchen.”

Sky grins back at him and stands, offering his hand to pull him up. 

“Let’s head back, then. Time’ll be mad if we’re back any later, anyways.”

“Yeah,” Wild chuckles, and brushes the dirt from his trousers. He tilts his head toward the village and they head off, Sky still grinning. Hopefully, he’ll be decent enough at it to not be banished from the kitchen like Hyrule had. Wild, as if reading his thoughts, bumps his shoulder. 

_ “Thanks,”  _ he signs, and Sky smiles. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok listen don't come for me,, I have absolutely no self control whatsoever and these prompts live in my head rent free so I will now be overloading myself with work (except there's no way I'm doing these everyday omg). anyways, if you catch any typos please tell me! I rarely edit, if ever, so it's much appreciated.


	2. campfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An easy night spent by the fireside.

The fire crackles at his feet, warming him even through the thick leather of his boots. It’s just a bit uncomfortable, and were it not for the biting chill in the air, he would llikely draw them back. Wild is beside him, hunched over his cookpot, and the others are scattered in a loose circle. It’s a common occurrence, sitting around the fire, but Sky still enjoys it nonetheless. It’s so much nicer to share a fire with people, as adverse to curling up on the ground and trying to forget the things that crawl in the night. 

Wind and Hyrule murmur animatedly about something or other. Sky draws his knees up to his chest as the heat grows just a tad too much to be bearable, and stares into the flickering flames. The warmth against his face is comforting, though it clashes harshly with the crisp cold that nips at the tips of his ears. 

The flames dance and he can just convince himself there’s shapes in them, dancing about in the story the crackling of the fire whispers into the night air. He finds himself stirred from his thoughts by a mug being pressed into his hands, the warm scent of spiced cider wafting up from it. The mug is set down carefully beside him until it cools, and he glances up to give Wild and little smile and nod in thanks. 

They rarely had campfires up in Skyloft -- there simply wasn’t a need, nor was there any space. During his quest, during many nights spent camped with only Fi for company, they were more common. They weren’t bad, per se, but he had never fully enjoyed them. Not like he does now, anyways. Sure, they had offered warmth and a bit of comfort, but they had been a lonely affair. 

Four pushes Hyrule’s shoulder, laughing about something or other, and he grins. It was nice to see everyone bathed in the gentle light of it, sipping (or more like burning themselves on, in Legend’s case) at a warm drink. He wonders if he can share this feeling at home -- the relief at the end of the day, shared with friends and warm in every way. 

The cider smells delicious and he picks it up after a moment, blowing at it and hoping he doesn’t burn himself. Lucky for him, the cool of the changing season is a bit harsher that night and the drink is pleasantly hot instead of scalding. He grins as he catches sight of Legend, ever so carefully taking a second sip of his own drink. 

Sky draws his sail cloth up around his shoulders, draping it over his arms in an attempt to ward off the cold a bit better. Beside him, Wars shivers, and he opens an arm to him with an inquisitive look. The captain glances around as if to make sure no one is watching before scooting closer on the log, tucking into Sky’s side and tugging the sailcloth over his shoulder. 

“Where’s your scarf?” Sky murmurs, and Wars shifts closer. 

“Gave it to Four,” he says, nodding his head in the direction of the smaller hero. The smith is practically buried in the fabric, draped over him like an oversized shawl, and Sky resists the urge to snicker. He hadn’t noticed earlier, the massive blue scarf the least of Four’s clothing choices. 

“How’re your scars?” 

Wars glances up at him.

“With the cold,” he says by way of explanation, and Wars looks back at the fire.

“They feel a little tight,” he says, and Sky can tell that he’s lying just a bit. It doesn’t seem to be causing any problems, though, and there’s not much they can do for it anyways, so he leaves it. 

“Yours?”

Sky shrugs.

“Don’t really have any feeling in them. Ruined too much.”

“Ah.”

“It’s not that bad, “ Sky says, and Wars hums. They sit there in companionable silence, occasionally taking sips from their mugs and listening to the murmurs of the others. 

“More?” Wild asks, and Sky blinks up at him.

“Please,” Wars says, offering up his cup, and Sky shakes himself from his thoughts.

“Me as well, thank you.”

Wild smiles and refills their empty mugs, scooching around them to offer it to the others. 

Wars yawns, tensing against Sky’s side, and Sky follows suit. 

“It’s getting late, boys,” Time says, ever practical, and Sky nods along sleepily. His belly is full, and he finds himself pleasantly warm despite the cold of the night. The drowsiness that has been lingering at the edges of his awareness for the last hour or so has crept fully in, pulling his eyelids down. 

“Gonna finish of this cider,” he says to Warriors, and he nods in response, vacantly staring into the fire. 

“Yeah,” he says, after a moment’s delay, and Sky hums in response. 

They finish off the last of the sweet drink and murmur thanks to Wild, slowly pushing themselves to their feet and dreading the loss of shared body heat. The chill swoops in immediately and Sky shivers as he sets up his bedroll, patting the padding to try and make in comfortable. Wars drags his own over and Sky glances up, trying for a smile but yawning instead. The captain laughs softly and drops his things, tossing his blanket out over the pristinely kept pads. After a few more exchanged yawns (that grow increasingly louder throughout the camp until Twilight lets out a yawn so exaggeratedly loud and long they all can’t help but laugh) Sky finds himself tucked under his and Warriors’ blankets, his sailcloth wrapped about their shoulders. He wriggles a bit closer, pressing their backs together, and adjusts the balled up tunic under his head. 

“Goodnight!” someone calls, and they are met a collection of scattered responses. Behind him, Wars murmurs something only half intelligible, and Sky laughs as he responds with his own goodnight. He smiles softly to himself as he drifts off, contently cozy and warm with the comforting domesticity of the night. The things that crawl in the woods go ignored, that night, and Sky is more than happy to let them go unacknowledged. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Faye,, I was channeling my tired while finishing this and am going to go pass out after posting this. No need to kill me anymore. This was,, very fun to write, despite the few points I got stuck and almost cut it off at only 500 words. Once more, I'm too impatient to edit properly so catching any typos is appreciated! <3


	3. warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wild's Hyrule has weather the others aren't finding themselves fond of.

Sky wraps his hands around the mug, heat leaching from the ceramic to his palms. He shivers, shoulders creeping up towards his ears, and tries to draw his legs even closer to his chest. 

“Gah,” he says past his stuffy nose, pulling the tea closer so that the steam rises into his face. 

“Alright?” Warriors asks from where he’s wrapped up in his scarf, the fabric drawn up around his face. Winter was coming relentlessly in Wild’s Hyrule, the fall chill less of a chill and more of a rapidly approaching storm. The clouds hung heavy over the horizon, though the resident hero seemed nonplussed by them. Wild was chatting away at Time, bustling about his small kitchen area. Sky sniffs again, sending a longing look towards the feathered headpiece he wore in his hair. 

After several minutes of increasingly aggressive shivering, Four seems to set aside his ego and stands up, drawing the blanket Wild had lent out to him tight about his shoulders. 

“Er, Sky?” 

“Mmm?” Sky hums in response, glancing up from his tea at him. The smallest hero looks positively miserable, shaking so much he’s surprised he manages to keep hold of the blanket. 

“Can I sit with you?” he asks quickly, rushing through the words. The red that tinges his face is most definitely not from the cold they were all starving off. Sky offers a wobbly grin. 

“Of course.”

Four slumps down beside him, tucking into his side almost immediately. Sky continues to sip at his tea, still shivering occasionally as his sailcloth shifts and lets in air, but at the very least the wind is no longer whipping at his face and through his hair, blowing through his clothes like they were paper. 

It wasn’t like Sky wasn’t used to cold. Skyloft was harsh, without the protection offered by the Surface, and their winters had always been a somewhat miserable affair. But this -- the sudden and relentless cold that had come from nowhere -- was far worse. Only the day before they had been  _ shedding  _ layers, it had been so warm out. He shivers again and sips at his drink, hoping the numbness would fade soon. 

Even as he thaws out, his fingers remain stiff and slow, barely responsive as he tries to move them. When Wild swings by, collecting their mugs from them, he very nearly drops it.

“All good?”

“Still a little cold,” Sky says sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. Wild looks a bit surprised. 

“Is it really  _ that  _ cold out? I don’t even think it’s below freezing.”

Sky stares at him. 

“Is it that cold out?” Legend parrots incredulously from his spot at the table, accent making the words even more punctuated. 

“No, really,” Wild protests. 

“You’re wearing a warmth charm, for Hylia’s sake!” Legend points at him from under the blanket draped over his shoulders, scowling. 

“These things don’t really make me any warmer, you know.”

“Bullshit. Then explain why you’re fine while the rest of us are  _ still  _ cold?”

Wild stares back at him a moment before huffing, dropping the mugs onto the counter and pulling the Slate off his hip. He stares down at its screen for a few moments, before hooking it back in place. 

“It’s four degrees out. That’s far from bad.”

“ _ Four  _ degrees?” Wind cuts in, looking astonished. 

“Degrees…?” Hyrule mutters to himself, but before Twilight has a chance to explain the room erupts into chaos. 

“Far from bad? What are you talking about?”

“Four degrees…. What is that, forty or so?”

“Wild, that is in no way warm.”

“I never said it was warm!” Wild exclaims, voice cracking. 

“Hylia above-”

“Can you lot shut up? I’m trying to doze.”

At Four’s -- who Sky had forgotten about, if he’s honest -- annoyed request, the accusations peter off into resentful grumbles. Legend continues to jab his finger at Wild, muttering rapid fire at him, Wild making increasingly indignant gestures before returning with rapid-fire sign, chewing at the inside of his cheek. 

Sky snorts softly to himself, shaking his head. Four tchs at his side, pulling his hood up over his head and muttering something under his breath. Eventually he stills, breathing evening out, and Sky shifts carefully away from him. After a bit of pantomiming Wind tosses him a pillow and he tucks it behind the smithy, fully drawing away now that he’s been replaced. 

He’s pushed himself to his feet, stretching and yawning widely, when Wild’s voice breaks the relative quiet of the room. 

“It’s really not that cold! It can’t even snow!” 

“Oh, come off of it.”

“This is  _ normal. _ ”

“Yeah, I’m just not seeing it,” Legend snarks back, crossing his arms. 

“Really! It’s fall. It snows nine months out of twelve in Hebra.”

“Does not.”

“It does!”

“You’re full of it. Come on.”

Wild groans, pressing his palms into his eyes. 

“I keep telling you, but-”

“Wild,” Time interjects, and the two bickering heroes fall silent. “Surely this is some freak storm?”

Wild stares back at him, looking tired. He shakes his head slowly. 

“No. This is normal.” 

Time’s eye closes, and when he opens it again it’s to stare disbelievingly up at him. 

“You mean to tell me it goes from near hot to only a few degrees off freezing in a matter of a day?” 

Wild shrugs. 

“Pretty standard, yeah. Hateno is in the foothills of Lanayru. We’re technically in the mountains.”

The room falls silent, and is only interrupted by a sneeze. 

“Sorry,” Hyrule sniffs, and Wind giggles. Soon, the rest of the are following suit, laughs rumbling throughout the room. Sky offers them all more tea while he’s up, nudging Wild with his shoulder as he passes by. 

“Four is a  _ little  _ cold, you have to admit.”

Wild takes a second, seeming to expect more yelling for a moment, but grins back at him. He shrugs, chuckling. 

“Just a little bit, I guess. “ Sky laughs softly and punches his shoulder jokingly, maneuvering past him towards the kettle. As he fills mugs, he finds that his fingers are no longer stiff, and sighs in relief. Finally warmed up, thank  _ Hylia. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Projecting both the "it's not that cold!" and the "how is this not cold" parts of me all at once. Mountain weather is,, miserable at times. I have my windows open right now, and it's only 9/48 degrees out, so that goes to show how low of a temperature I consider "cool". (It really isn't that cold, 50 f is prime outside workout temperature). This was fun to write with how much of a difference there's been between night and day -- like two weeks ago it was 24/75 or so during the day and dropped to 3/37 over night
> 
> I spell checked this, at the very least (I thought I did with the other two, but apparently not), but I've probably missed some grammatical things! If you happen to catch anything please tell me <3


	4. surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sky is more perceptive than the others realize, though he never brings up the things he notices. He is not, however, prepared for his own secrets to be observed.

Sky, for all his all too frequent confusion, was actually fairly perceptive. He never pushed at the others to reveal their secrets, merely filed the information away for later and waited for it to be revealed in its own time. His observation had come from years of practice avoiding Zelda’s attempts at pranks and the frequent upheavals of his own quest. It’s a skill he wishes he had learned earlier on -- it certainly would have saved him a good bit of suffering. But, in the end, he had come out fine, so he supposes it is a reward of sorts, for surviving his many mistakes. 

When they’re sitting by the fire at night, the big wolf that seems to follow them around curled up by Wild, he is half surprised no one else has noticed the blatant lack of Twilight in their circle. Not to mention, the markings that cut across the dark fur of the wolf’s head are all too similar to the tattoos that mark Twilight’s. The older hero seems perfectly content keeping his other form a secret, so Sky never brings it up. 

It’s hard to miss Four’s muttering. He found himself walking near the boy frequently in their travels, for some reason or other, and the bits and pieces of his voice that he caught seemed far too concise and put together to be complaints under his breath. It’s hard to say exactly why he talks to himself, with Sky only ever catching snippets here and there, but over time he manages to piece together a decent amount. 

If Four ever decides to reveal his quiet companions, Sky will be more than happy to welcome them -- though, whoever “Blue” is, he is fine with keeping a bit of distance from them. Four’s harshest chidings always seemed to be directed towards them. 

Then there's Legend. The hero thought he had his secrets held close to his chest, and maybe it appeared so to the others as well, but the amount of times he had let something slip was near astounding for how little he spoke of his adventures. It was never anything major, just little crumbs Sky built up over time. He hopes the other boy can get his feelings sorted out soon, for his and whoever the other person was’ sake. 

Wind is hardly private. But Sky notices the moments in which he falls silent, looking thoughtfully down at the ground. The others joke about how open and earnest he is, admiring how his “innocence” -- Sky would beg to differ, with the sailor’s rather extensive vocabulary -- remains despite the trials he has been put through. They are wrong, and when Wind jokes back there is an obvious tightness to his smile, a tightness lingering in his eyes. He never pries, and Wind never seems keen on sharing, but Sky will silently offer a hug or the spot at his side on days the boy looks particularly worried. 

It’s funny, really, how the others never seem to notice his lack of surprise whenever they reveal little secrets they’ve been keeping. In all likelihood, it’s because of his slow reactions -- as he watches something happen, he’ll still question it, mouth lagging behind the information his brain has already processed. The others even tease him about his obliviousness -- he only ever smiles and laughs along good naturedly.

“Sky,” Four says one day as they walk along, leaves crunching beneath their boots. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mmm?” Sky glances over at the smaller hero before blinking. “Of course.”

He almost expects some allusion to the secrets he carries, but the set of his face is wrong for the situation. Sky is only afford a brief second to be confused, before Four says, in the most flat, assured voice Sky thinks he has ever heard: 

“Why can’t the Master Sword’s spirit manifest? Is their vessel broken or something?”

Sky catches his foot on his heel, sent stumbling forward. When he recovers himself, Four only looks inquisitive. 

“I… pardon?” 

“The spirit. You clearly talk to them, when you’re not thinking about it.”

“I…” Sky says dumbly, blinking down at him. 

“Can you hear them? Or are you only speaking to them out of sentiment? Sorry if that brings up any bad memories.”

Sky finally manages to get a handle on himself, mouth snapping shut. Four, despite his calm composure, had absolutely hit him over the head with the questions. 

“No,” he manages to work out. “They don’t talk to me anymore. With their voice, at least.”

Four raises an eyebrow, and Sky’s hand drifts back to touch the Master Sword’s hilt. 

“They’ll burn me, if I’m doing something stupid. Or accidently trying to hurt one of you. That’s how I found out Time wasn’t lying to me about who he was.”

Four nods, looking oddly intrigued, as if every word is being carefully filed away. Sky, despite being able to speak again, is still reeling. 

“Burn…” he echoes, and Sky nods. 

“Never bad enough to cause injury, but enough to sting.”

“So why don’t they manifest? They clearly have enough power to interact with the outside world.”

“Their purpose out here was fulfilled,” Sky says quietly, casting his gaze downwards. Four seems to pause beside him, but Sky doesn’t pay much attention to it. He thought of Fi whenever he wielded their blade, sure, but it had been a while since they had been brought up so painfully. He still wishes he had been given a better reason than that provided to him. Fi hadn’t seemed fully willing to leave, either. 

“Purpose.” Four says, jolting him just as quickly back from his thoughts, but it seems to be directed more towards himself than Sky. The both of them fall silent again, Four seeming to be analyzing the information. Sky pushes thoughts of Fi from his mind, not willing to force upon himself the ache he had so carely staved off through this whole quest. 

“How did you know they were a sword spirit?” Sky finally asks, when the easy knowledge Four had presented finally hits him as a bit odd. 

“I have… experience, with beings tied to blades. I don’t know that much, though.” 

“And you need to know more?” Sky asks. He figures he can afford to pry back at Four, after how off center he had just been thrown. Four stiffens before forcing his shoulders down, taking a deep breath. 

“Yeah. Something like that.” 

“Not much of an explanation.”

Four’s gaze snaps up to him, blue roiling in his eyes. 

“That’s none of your-” He suddenly sighs, dropping his head and dragging a hand over his face. 

“Can I.. tell you something.” 

Sky nods encouragingly, and Four glances around. 

“You can’t let the others know, though. I…”

“I won’t,” Sky says simply, slowing his pace so that the rest of the group pulls ahead of them even more. Four sighs again, worrying at his lip. 

“We… I think -- I’m not sure, entirely, but -- I think I’ve been bound to my sword.” 

He says it quietly, staring at the ground, face caught in an odd expression between a scowl and worry. 

“We? Like the companions you talk to?” Sky says before he can stop himself. This time, it is Four’s turn for surprise, and it is all Sky can do to hold in his laughter (if only for a few seconds) when he catches his foot on a root and dives face first into a tree. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, they have a very serious discussion about Four's secret(s) later, with a good helping of comfort. (maybe some day I'll write said moment) 
> 
> this was hard to come up with something for at first -- I eventually came back to my original idea of Four revealing being quite literally four, though a full reveal seemed a bit much for only about 1k. It was fun trying to link together a secret of his and Sky's -- my braincells are slow today and I can barely think of any of Sky's secrets. In fairness to myself, compared to some of the other boys they definitely aren't many. 
> 
> Not as fall themed as the other ones, I'm afraid! Still, six days of fall related content would 1.) get hard to stretch out and 2.) kill me. I like new things! Also, on a side note, I didn't mean for these to be Sky-centric, but here we are. Just like with everything else I write, please tell me if you catch any typos!


	5. companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time of year is always hard for Twi, especially when he remembers the pain in Zelda's voice.

Twi rests his chin on his knees, staring into the fire. The others murmur around him, but the words he hears make no sense. He misses Zelda starkly in that moment -- her hugs had always been the most reassuring, and right now he thinks he needs that. The dusk had given away to twilight in a brilliant wash of gold, and the ache in his chest had been instantaneous. 

It had been years since she had left, sure, but he missed her no less. He didn’t think he would ever stop missing her. Even at home, curled up against Zelda’s side, the reminder that their trio had been cut to two was always stark. They hadn’t even had that much time together, really -- so why was he still so hurt over it? In the back of his mind he knows he’s only trying to make excuses in growing angry at himself for being so emotional. It continued to be ridiculous. 

He worries the shadow crystal between his fingers, the flickering flames consuming his vision. 

“Twi,” he hears someone say, suddenly, and his head snaps up. Sky is offering him a bowl of food, looking a bit concerned. 

“Oh. Thank you,” he says, accepting the bowl and trying to force himself to not be so robotic about it. Sky frowns, hovering over him. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m good,” Twi says, but Sky continues to stare at him and he looks away. 

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Sky says gently, and sits down beside him. 

Twi stiffens and doesn’t respond, staring back into the fire. After a moment, Sky sighs. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

“Not particularly,” he says, voice clipped, but the chosen hero seems undeterred. 

“Homesick?” 

“Something like that.” 

After a few more minutes of listless staring, Sky seems no closer to leaving him alone. He sighs, pulling his gaze away from the flames, and pushes his food around its bowl. 

“I miss Zelda,” he says quietly. It’s not too far off the truth -- if anything, it is, just not all of it. He  _ does  _ miss Zelda, misses her dearly, but most of his stem pains from missing  _ her.  _ As much as he loved Zelda, it wasn’t in the same way. Wasn’t as all consuming, didn’t  _ hurt  _ quite so much. He wishes she hadn’t left. Wishes she knew who she had left in her wake. 

He drops his head again, staring into his food. 

“Are you and Zelda…?” 

Twi shakes his head. 

“No. Sort of. It’s -- it’s not like you and your Zelda.”

Sky nods, seeming to understand what Twilight is struggling to get across. 

“Doesn’t mean you miss her any less, I’ll bet.” 

Twilight doesn’t respond, only draws his knees closer to his chest. 

_ “Zelda, I must return to my own realm soon. As much as I would like to stay, I have a duty to my people.”  _

_ “I know,” Zelda says, chewing at her nails. “I’m just… worried.”  _

_ Midna laughs. _

_ “There are no more usurpers to worry about, I promise. “ _

_ Zelda smiles, but there is no humor in her eyes. Link furrows his brows at her, but she only shakes her head. Midna strides ahead and they follow, Link wondering what reasons Zelda had to be worried.  _

Twilight shivers at a sudden chill, pulling him from his thoughts. He picks up the curry Wild had made, forcing himself to take a few bites -- he didn’t particularly feel like eating, but he knew he had to. It would help warm him up, in any case. 

“Sometimes it helps to talk about her,” Sky offers gently. “It always helps me, at least a little bit.”

Twi attempts to smile at him but it ends up more of a grimace. 

“If you don’t want to, I won’t be upset or anything,” SKy shrugs, and Twilight shakes his head. 

“It’s just- hard, I guess.” 

“Take your time.” 

He takes a breath through his nose, still grimacing. It takes a few tries to push past the lump in his throat, and when he does his voice is pitifully quiet. 

“Zelda is… easy. I don’t have to act around her.”

Sky hums softly, encouraging. 

“She… I miss her hugs. And late night talks in the kitchens.” Though his voice is still shaky, he finds himself easing into it. 

“We talk about… anything, really. And we just listen to each other. Sometimes we’ll eat pastries and Zelda will have tea. I miss the smell of her tea…” 

He squeezes his eyes shut. If her tries, he can just convince himself of the smell of earl grey. 

“Right now is… a hard time. I hope she’s okay without me.”

“Oh,” Sky breathes, realizing why Twi seems so much more melancholy than usual. “I’ve only met her briefly, but she seems strong. I’m sure she will manage.” 

Twi laughs shakily, wiping a tear from his eye. 

“Yeah. She is.” 

Sky doesn’t try to hug him like he would with the others, which Twi is thankful for. He doesn’t think he could handle the shame of having to be  _ coddled  _ over his stupid feelings. They fall silent again, Twi forcing down the emotion that rises like bile in his throat.  _ Goddesses,  _ he missed them. 

_ As soon as they realize what is happening, it is too late. Zelda’s eyes grow wide, her hand reaching out -- Midna looses the spear, and it’s over.  _

_ ‘I love you’, she mouths, and then she is gone.  _

_ In the silence of the colosseum, Zelda screams, and Link breaks with her.  _

“I don’t think she’s okay. Neither of us ever are,” he says, and Sky pauses. “She just… left us,” Twi growls, suddenly angry. “She didn't even….” 

He drops his head between his knees. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, and tries not to shake. After a moment, Sky tentatively rests a hand on his shoulder, and he flinches. He makes no move to pull away, though, so Sky scoots closer so that their toes are touching, and wraps his arms around him. 

Twilight starts to cry, even if he’s just barely quivering, and hates himself for being so weak. 

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” he says, but Sky shakes his head. 

“It’s no good to keep things bottled up, and you’ve been trying to put it aside for a while, haven’t you?”

The feeling of being so seen is hard for Twilight to deal with, it the moment, and he sniffs. Sky continues to rub at his back and Twi suddenly remembers their audience. Half panicked, he pulls away, pushing himself to his feet. 

“Twi-”

“I’ll be back later,” he says loudly, glancing pointedly over at Time. Before anyone can say anything, he turns on his heel and makes for the forest. It was always easier to run away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, it's not sky-centric? w a c k. anyways,, midna has two hands and my gay self wants midzel content. Twi and Zelda aren't romantic here! They're platonic partners though -- they bond over both being in love with the woman who left them :) anways midzelink is,,, a god tier ship everyone shut up 
> 
> this was VERY self catered content lmao,,, I love this concept a lot


	6. fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hero who rises so high must eventually come crashing down. 
> 
> TW: major character death, blood, associated gore and angst

It’s a nice morning, really. The sun dawns bright and clear, the clouds in the sky far and few between. The chill of autumn is gentle against his skin, the tea Wild has passed out warm in his hands. The others seem well rested, much more chatty than normal as they sit around the fire. And yet, despite the easy peacefulness, Sky finds himself uneasy. 

The day continues with relative ease — Wild gets his foot stuck in the tangled roots of a tree and they have to spend a good ten minutes yanking it out, but that was far from an uncommon occurrence. They chat amongst themselves as they walk, excited to soon be in a village for the night. Twilight has promised that they are close to a settlement, and the weariness of their group is soon to be relieved. It had been quite some time since they were afforded a proper rest. 

Sky _itches_. He doesn’t know why, can’t explain his unease, but the feeling won’t shake. He half wants to carry his blade in his hand, but the others would surely question the need for it. Besides, nothing was actually going wrong. 

Wild and Wind run ahead, yanking at each other’s tunics, the others talking animatedly behind them. Normally, on days like these, Sky might encourage some music, but he is on too high of alert to do so now. It’s frustrating, how worried he’s grown. 

The sun rises higher in the sky, offering warmth at their backs as they trod along. It’s another day in a long line of travel -- the worst they have faced is a couple of bokoblins, maybe the occasional moblin. Nearing noon, they break for lunch, chatting idly as Wild flips through his Slate. 

“We could have leftover vegetables from the other night with some bread. Or rice and smoked fish?”

After a few minutes of conflicting votes, they settle on a meal and get comfy as the cook passes out the bowls. Sky, still uneasy, glances around as he accepts the bowl, and once more finds nothing. He really needs to stop worrying. 

“Where did you get this fish? I don’t think we’ve had time for you to make it yourself.” 

“Last time we were in my Hyrule I stocked up in Kakariko. They eat a lot of it there.”

“It’s good! I’ll have to ask about the seasonings next time we’re there.”

The others hum in agreement, and Sky forces himself to tune into the discussion. As they pack up and continue on, he pushes his shoulders down and strikes up a conversation with Warriors. 

They’re still deep in conversation an hour or so later, so when there’s rustling in the bushes Sky writes it off as a wild animal. Wars laughs loudly, head thrown back, and Sky chuckles with him -- it’s the last thing he sees before everything erupts into chaos. 

He should have never let his guard down. 

Warriors laugh is cut off as the horde of monsters charge them, a blade glancing off of his pauldron. The group is armed within moments, but they have still lost valuable time in the surprise of a sudden attack. Sky hears shouts from the others, but there’s no time to worry about what’s going on with them. He just manages to parry the sword aimed for his head, shoving it away and whirling around so he and Wars are back to back. 

“Fuck,” Warriors breathes, and Sky is inclined to agree. It’s a _massive_ collection of monsters, more of them armed with blades or spears then not. A fair bit of them have armor and shields as well -- it’s a coordinated attack, that much is certain. The sound of metal on metal fills the air, harsh clangs and singing scrapes. He takes down one, two, their bodies pitching over, but the bokoblins are replaced immediately. His shield arm buckles under the stress of blow after blow, and he stumbles to the side. 

“Gah!”

In his brief flounder, a lizalfos manifesto catch him across the arm with its spear. He swings his blade outward, cutting across its torso, and regains himself. 

“All good?” Wars calls without turning around, grunting as he fends off whatever enemy he currently faces. 

“Yeah. Just a slice,” Sky grunts back, taking out another few bokoblins. Between the nine of them, the smaller monsters’ numbers seem to be finally thinning, but a moblin wanders into the midst of it and Sky has to wonder how much they’ve really dented their numbers. 

“We should move closer to it!” Warriors shouts, already shifting sideways, and Sky follows. 

The lizalfos are the worst -- Sky finds himself with another few cuts in his legs, fabric growing warm with blood. The moblin seems worn down by Wild and Twilight’s relentlessly heavy attacks, and by the time they make it over there the tall beast is toppling over. Wind jumps nimbly out of the way as it comes crashing down. 

“Hey, guys! Glad you could join us,” he grins, and Twilight scowls. 

“Focus.” 

Wild shrugs. The lizalfos continue to press forward, but their numbers are already far depleted. There hadn’t been all too many of them to begin with, as it was. The bokoblins, as well, seem to have slowed, and Sky allows himself a sigh of relief. 

Maybe that was a bad move, on his part, because there’s a bellowing roar and a lynel -- _that wasn’t supposed to be here_ \-- comes barreling out of the woods, followed by another few lumbering moblins. 

“Oh, come _on!_ ” Warriors shouts, and charges the lynel before it has a chance to build up a fire attack. Sky and Wild follow, Twilight shouting that he’ll cover them. The captain is already hacking into the beast’s flank, Sky and Wild arriving just in time to distract it from taking Warriors out. Wild runs forward and Sky’s heart leaps into his throat, but at the last minute he drops into a slide and drags his blade along the underside of the lynel. Sky skirts around to its side, copying Warrior’s tactic, and prays that it falls quickly. 

Much to their surprise, it darts forward, dragging their blades along the length of it. Sky’s blade is ripped from it with a sickening squelch, sending him stumbling back at the sudden lack of resistance. 

“It’s going to charge!” Wild yells, bending his knees and facing off with the beast. It does, after a loud roar, and Wild gives no sign of planning to jump out of the way. It’s all Wars and Sky can do to watch as he waits for the last possible moment, catching his blade in its shoulder and using it to swing himself onto its back. 

Confused by why there was suddenly a very angry rider atop its back, the lynel pauses for a moment, and Sky and Warriors rush in. 

“C’mon, C’mon!” He hears Warriors mutter as he picks a spot and tries to shove his blade through. Sky continues to hack, completely engrossed in the task -- with a scream of a roar, it rears, sending Wild flying -- a quick glance shows that his paraglider is already unfurled, saving him from what would surely be a set of broken ribs. He backs up, not wanting to be trampled, but when the monster comes down it folds to its knees and tips over onto its side with a final gurgle. 

“Oh, thank Hylia,” he breathes, panting. He rolls his shoulders, looking for the next enemy to fight, but instead is met with Twi’s look of horror.

“Sky!” He shouts, and Sky suddenly finds himself met with searing pain. He can’t breathe, abdomen tightening around the sudden intrusion, and s a glance downwards reveals a blade sticking out from his torso. Still half in shock, he watches as the blade slides back into him, tearing at his already ruined guts as it rips back out. 

“Ah,” he manages to breathe out, and falls to his knees. Red soaks his tunic, blooming like ink on paper, and he distantly registers his sword dropping from his hand. Someone’s shouting, he thinks -- the world goes blurry as he looks up, head swimming. He blinks and the world seems to go dark for far too long -- his entire torso has exploded into burning pain, like fire eating him from the inside out. 

Through the fog and pain, it finally occurs to him how bad the wound is -- he coughs, spitting blood across the dirt. Blades continue to ring around him, shouts and grunts and snarls filling the air, but he hears it as if underwater. Everything seems so horribly far away. He pants, trying desperately to pull in air that doesn’t seem to be enough, and clutches at his stomach. 

He was… dying. This wasn’t fixable, was it? Under his hands is horribly warm, hands growing slick with blood. He thinks he tries to say something, but he’s not too sure, because all that comes out is a low wheeze and a wet cough, more blood spilling over his lips. His eyes drift closed, and he tries desperately to wrap his head around what’s going on. 

Zelda. His sun. As he panics even more, still unable to do anything about it, she comes to mind. He couldn't leave her behind, not like this -- it doesn’t feel like there’s much of a choice, right now. Distantly, he feels himself fall forward, slumping into the ground. Everything in him is trying to panic, to freak out, but his body won’t respond. All he manages is another wheeze, and he realizes he can’t hear anything beyond the ringing in his ears. 

He doesn’t want to go, wants to stay and keep living and go _home-_

To the rhythm of his own fear, he finds himself no longer to able hang on, and everything suddenly ceases to exist. 

Oh, how hard the heroes fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHHAHAH IM DRUNK ON ANGST POWER LETS GOOOOOO
> 
> Anyways, back to my Sky-centric habits! I'm actually quite proud of how this came out. Please tell me if you catch any grammar or spelling mistakes! <3


	7. graveyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guilt weighs heavy and the knowledge of its truth is absolute.

The flow of time is always and forever cruel. He remembers the words as Sheik had spoken them, accented words flowing like honey. Words he had tucked away into the deepest recesses of his heart, locked up good and tight so that he might never lose them. And he hasn’t lost them, no, he remembers them all, each and every one as clear as day, but perhaps remembering is more painful than forgetting. He digs him a grave in his mind, and tries to put the memory of him to rest. 

They rise like zombies, and haunt him eternally. 

In all of his years and not-years of living, the blood on his hands and the weight on his shoulders has only ever amassed. He tries to rinse away the shame but the water he uses is little more than that which he wants gone. Despite the murmured assurances he is given his memories persist, marked deep into bones.

How many lives rested in his hands? How many had slipped through his fingers? And even of the lives he wasn’t responsible for, those who stayed near him anyways, how many actually stuck around? Even after so much wandering he still can’t settle. It feels like decades and eons and thousands of lifetimes of fighting and loving and losing, all for nothing. No matter how hard he tried, how desperately he fought, there was always more turmoil in his life than not. 

Malon is kind and good and easy, but just having her is a battle hard won. She promises she stays because she wants to, because it’s her choice -- promises that she’s staying, despite it all. But it feels like she’s moments from being ripped away, another puppet in the Goddesses’ twisted game. 

He looks around at the boys he leads — all so young, for the trials they have faced, and he cannot help but feel that it’s his own fault. So many of them fought Ganondorf, the foe he was  _ supposed  _ to have defeated — how could he call himself a hero when the evil didn’t stay defeated? If only he was better. 

The Master Sword is heavy in his hands. It didn’t used to be, but now it feels as if it’s judging him. Taunting him, even. His failures and shortcomings laid bare for the world to see, shoved in his face and written across the sky. They are inescapable and all-consuming, and ever looming presence that only grows with each passing day. Each trial he faces and each trial he fails, stacking up one on top of another. 

_ “The war is not easily won, I’m afraid.” Sheik says, and Link think’s he means more than just the war. They watch the sun break over the horizon in silence, golden light reaching over the ravaged lands. Link can just see the melancholy in his face, where it’s not hidden away, and wonders just how much more it hurts to have to have seen the destruction of one's home. In that respect, he had been spared — he’d woken to what he could almost pretend was a new world altogether, instead of the one he had barely experienced before.  _

_ “What was it like?” heasks, and Sheik furrows his brow.  _

_ “What was what like?”  _

_ “Home,” Link says, and Sheik looks suddenly very human.  _

_ “We didn’t live in Hyrule proper,” Sheik eventually responds.  _

_ “That doesn’t matter. I still want to know.”  _

_ Sheik turns his face away, staring off into the distance, and Link is half worried he’s about to run away again.  _

_ “We — I — lived beyond the desert. It was safer, there, with how small we had become. It’s beautiful there, by the sea. Or, was, anyhow.”  _

_ “Ganondorf reached that far?” _

_ “Not Ganondorf,” Sheik says, and Link is confused. “The Royal Family.”  _

_ Sheik looks angry and lost and inescapably sad all at once and it’s Links first real taste of how much of a lie all that he stands for is.  _

_ When Zelda claims to be Shiek, he knows it’s not true, because she could have never faked the pain. _

He wonders if the Sheikah are alive without Ganondorf ever having had the chance to throw everything into turmoil. All these years and he’s never checked — are these more lives that he held the strings of? Fate had fallen into his hands and he wished nothing more than to give it back, but no matter what he tried it fell right back. He takes the parts of him that think about those things and buries them. He can’t bear to think of them now, when they have once more begun to drag at his hands. 

His crimes are never completely absent, though, and he wonders why he was ever favored. How can people continue to see him without the taint of all he has done wrong? They insist that he’s good when he knows that he’s not quite — it’s a horrible inbetween of trying his best and never being enough. 

All that he’s lost, all that he’s won — what does any of it mean? How does it matter when he fails in the end? His mind is eternally running around these questions, these doubts, and nothing anyone says can calm the waves that crash in his mind. The sun sets on day after day and the world keeps turning but he feels left behind, trying desperately to catch up. It’s like climbing an ever growing mountain, always close but never close enough and tiring even as the end grows near. 

_ “Link,” Malon will say. “You’ve done so much. It’s time to rest.”  _

But it is never time to rest. He can put away parts of himself, lay them down bit by horrid bit, but even in death he thinks he will be forever running. Running from himself and the mistakes he made and the ever pressing weight of destiny and fate. He stands alone, in the graveyard of his soul, and wonders just how much of a person there needs to be considered alive. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time angst! I started this fic with only the idea of the final line — it’s the first thing I had for any of the prompts, really. It’s was definitely hard to write without much of a story — something I enjoy doing but struggle with making long! 
> 
> Posting this off of my phone so please please please tell me if you catch any mistakes <3 I’d say that regardless but-


	8. redead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wild doesn't have redeads, back home.

It’s not often that their group finds itself traveling after dusk. But the village they’re trying to get to is only another hour or so out, and with winter coming in this Hyrule the days have been cut short. Although they all act as if they are unbothered by the darkness, it is evident in the way they walk more closely knit than normal, and speak with quieted tones. Warriors absentmindedly fiddles with a dagger — a kunai, maybe — and some of the others carry their swords in hand. 

The dark had never treated them well. Wild, ever on high alert with the dangers he had faced during his own quest, really shouldn’t have been as taken by surprise as he had been. There’s a rustling in the long grass beside him, and he turns to look. The face he finds staring back at him grins with bared teeth and empty eyes that give way to void, and he scrambles back. 

Luckily, he doesn’t have to say anything -- alerted by his gasp of shock and stumbling, the others have already unsheathed their weapons. The  _ thing  _ is felled in a matter of moments, but Wild’s heart still races. Even as the others relax, Wild remains tense, eyes wide and sword gripped so tightly his knuckles turn white. 

“You alright, Wild?” Legend asks after a while, teasing. Wild blinks at him, finally managing to clear his throat. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice sticking, and the older hero frowns. 

“What could you… the redead? Is that it?”

“Redead?” Wild tries, frowning at how his voice refuses to work with him. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what that is?”

Wild shakes his head, and Legend looks caught between laughing and consideration. 

“I thought Ganon brought things back with your blood moons or whatever.”

WIld shrugs, still glancing around warily. 

_ “Monsters that I had killed, yes, but I never fought any of those things. _ ”

Lucky for him, Legend’s night vision is almost as good as Twilight’s. He thinks Sky carries a lantern up ahead, which casts some bit of a glow on his hands, and he breathes a sigh of relief when Legend carries on the conversation without trouble. 

“And they didn’t come back… different?”

_ “No?” _

“You have stals at least, don’t you?”

_ “Stalkoblins. Stalnoxes, yes.” _

Legend looks briefly confused before his face smooths out, and he glances out towards the fields they walk through. 

“So what happens to people who die horrid deaths?”

_ “What?” _

Legend shrugs. 

“That’s what a redead is. Made dead twice. If you don’t send someone off properly, they’re cursed to wander the earth in search of life forevermore.”

_ “No, _ ” Wild signs, but there’s doubt in his eyes. Legend nods sagely, looking nonchalant about it. 

“That one we killed earlier was probably some poor old schmuck who wandered too far off the path and got attacked by some wolfos or something.”

Wild stares at him and Legend has to struggle not to laugh at how nervous he suddenly looks. He clearly wants to know more but Legend feigns obliviousness and calls out to Hyrule, jogging ahead to catch up with him. 

It’s beyond obvious that Wild has become nervous -- and dare say it, scared -- with the way he has shifted closer to the group and carries a sword in hand. Sky offers a sympathetic smile but the blue-clad hero fails to notice with how skittish he is. Even when the little village comes into view and they all breathe a collective sigh of relief he stays tense, only putting away his sword when they go inside. 

“You alright, Wild?” Hyrule asks as they settle down, shucking their gear and claiming beds. He doesn’t notice, and it takes the smaller hero lightly tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention. 

“Huh?”

“You okay? You’ve been jumpy all night.”

“Er, yeah. Thanks,” Wild says, rather unconvincingly, and starts to peel off his boots. Hyrule throws a dirty glance Legend’s way and the pink-haired boy shrugs, barely suppressing a grin. 

Long after the others fall asleep, Wild is awake. He’s tried to sleep, he really has -- but the memory of stinking breath in his face and those horribly empty spaces in place of eyes haunt him. They almost sort of look like the monks, he thinks. Same brittle skin, drawn tight over bones long dead, but something about the redead had been fundamentally  _ wrong.  _ It’s not as if he hasn’t faced monsters before, but so few of the ones in his own Hyrule were so haunting. Its face still will not leave his mind, and he shifts uncomfortably.

It’s got to be getting late. He doesn’t bring out his Slate to check, like he normally would, for fear of waking the others. So rarely were they afforded uninterrupted sleep, and they were far too light of sleepers to be able to ignore the unnatural blue glow of the Slate. So he sits there, back of his neck prickling uncomfortably, and glances out the window every so often. 

Finally, exhaustion wins over and he starts to drift away, slumping over where he’d propped up against the wall. There’s a tap at the window, and his head snaps up, whipping around to look. Empty eyes bore into him, and he shrieks. 

“Wha-”

“Redead!” Wild hisses at the bleary Sky, sword already in hand as he makes for the door. Sky and Four startle at the mention of a monster and grab their own swords as well, rushing out after Wild. Hyrule, still sitting in bed, watches them go and drops his head to his hand. 

“Oh my Goddess.”

Wild rounds the corner, glancing around frantically for the creature he’d just seen. He can hear footsteps behind him, the others, surely -- where  _ was  _ it? Pausing, he looks around wildly, squinting into the dark. 

“Boo.”

Wild jumps back, swinging his sword wildly at the source of the voice. When he recovers, he finds his sword at Legend’s neck -- Legend, despite the danger, throws his head back and sinks to the ground, laughing so hard he has to clutch his stomach. 

“You should have seen your  _ face _ .”

He manages to look up at him, catching sight of Sky and Four. 

“Oh my Goddess, I can’t believe you got the others-” he dissolves into a wheeze, and Wild has to resist the urge to throw his sword down. 

“You woke us up… for this?” Four says incredulously, staring down at Legend with a curled lip. The veteran hero only wheezes in response, and he rolls his eyes. 

“I say we lock him out, “ he mutters to Sky and Wild, and turns on his heel. The other two share a look, grinning, and follow before Legend catches wind of their plan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something a bit more lighthearted after the angst I've been writing! Very nearly became angsty when I was first starting out. That's a concept I'd like to come back to later, actually. I've been feeling pretty gross the last few days so I apologize if the quality sorta dipped. I'd struggled with an idea for this as well so it's sort of whatever. 
> 
> More selectively mute Wild headcanons -- I headcanon Legend to be as well, which is why he understood Wild's signing, but it's hard fit it in while trying to stay close to canon characterizations. I feel like I struggled a bit with Legend just overall here, but it's not so far off that I'm too concerned. 
> 
> My obligatory please tell me if you catch any typos! <3


	9. forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sky enjoys forests immensely.

The trees tower overhead, their soft scent filling the air. It was a smell Sky was still unaccustomed to -- he could have never imagined all these different trees having such wildly differing scents. Their boughs hung in wide fans, needles soft under his fingers as he ran his hands along them. The recent rain gave the forest an earthy crispness Sky had almost never experienced in his eighteen years of life, up in the sky. 

Forests themselves were foreign. He remembers his first day on the Surface so starkly -- amidst all the worry and panic and confusion, he had been so in awe of the seemingly endless sea of trees. Never before had he seen so many trees in the same place, and never would he have imagined there could _be_ so many. He finds himself still fascinated even after so much time spent travelling through the woods in his own adventure and this one. It offers him a small source of happiness, despite the troubles of a new quest. 

The others, save Wind, who has only ever known the sea, seem unimpressed by the vast stretches of forests they pass through. Sky has found himself less and less in awe of the more standard ones, but wherever they are now -- no one can claim it as their own Hyrule -- is absolutely breathtaking.

The trees are almost red in color, with needles so deeply green he’s half convinced they’re painted. The ground is soft beneath his boots, and littered with decaying stumps and ferns, moss creeping up on every surface available. In the late evening sun, dust motes float gently through the air, giving an ethereal feel to the place. Sky almost wonders if there is something special there, something holy, but the light is only normal light and not one of the Goddesses. 

It’s soft, there. Peaceful, he would say, if not for his lingering worry. He always carried caution now and it wore on him, but he tried not to let it get to him. Time seems like he wants to push onwards as long as possible, so Sky resigns himself to having to enjoy the forest from the road for now. He would like to sit down and collect some of the wood to test how easily it carves, or examine the plants, or even just sit and breathe in the earthy smell he could just catch whiffs of. 

There’s a rustling to his right, farther off, and he glances over to see a stag grazing amongst the underbrush, the rest of its herd dotted amongst the trees. He sees Twi jog up to Time, likely having noticed the same herd, and he frowns. He’d rather leave their beauty untouched. Luckily, Time seems to deem the detour of hunting too much for today, so the deer remain undisturbed. 

He thinks that the wolf that followed them would enjoy this place -- so much to see, so many smells and animals and space to run. If he were a wolf, he thinks, letting his mind wander, he would run all day through these woods. There’s a little creek up ahead, the smooth sound of water offering ambience to the already so perfect setting, and Sky wants nothing more than to stop for the night. 

Time doesn’t even glance twice at the water, and he sighs. Figures. He hops over it and throws a longing glance backwards, frowning. He wonders if there’s somewhere like this in his own Hyrule -- he knows little of what the soon to be land actually consists of, and he and Zelda had only just begun exploring it when he was dragged on this new quest. And even then, he doesn’t think there’s forests like these anywhere near the lands they plan on settling. 

He sighs again, making a face, and tries to enjoy it while it lasts. The sunlight seems to make everything it touches glow, and he can just imagine a little gathering of cabins set amidst the trees, garden plots tucked between them. Children running about, clambering over the great roots and playing in the streams. It makes him smile, imagining this alternate life. 

Time can’t stop him from taking his time here, can he? Sky ponders the thought -- he had no wish to disrespect their more-or-less leader, but the opportunity would pass him by if he allowed himself to be a pushover. Eventually, his own urges win out. Besides, with how low the sun has gotten, he doubts they will be going much further. 

There’s some discarded wood not too far off the path, but when he scoops it up and tests its strength it all but crumbles in his hands. The earthy smell it gives off is overwhelming, though, and he assumes that it’s rotting. Newer wood, then. Wild is nearby, and he slips up next to him. 

“Hey,” he says by way of greeting, and the blue-clad hero glances questioningly at him. 

“Do you happen to have an axe in your Slate?”

Wild brightens, nodding. Sky watches him flip through the screens, finally finding what he’s looking for and tapping the icon with a flourish. The weapon appears in a coalescence of blue light and Wild presents it to him easily as it materializes in his hand. 

“Thanks!” Sky grins, and Wild nods, making a few signs Sky has to pause to decipher. “...doing? Oh, me? I wanted some of this wood to try and carve.”

Wild nods, smiling back at him and giving him a thumbs up. 

After a bit of scanning he finds a tree with thick, low hanging branches, and catches Wild’s attention before wandering off. Four and Wind glance at him questioning but he waves them off as he turns, picking through the underbrush. 

He feels a bit bad, chopping at the wood like this, but the branches are small enough that he knows the tree will survive without them. The murmurs of the others fade away and he is left alone with the quiet chirping of the birds and his own breathing, broken only by the thunk of the axe. 

The piece falls away and he sits, stripping the boughs from it. The sweet scent of the needles as they crush under his hands makes him pause and tuck a few into his belt to store for later -- he wonders if they can be made into some sort of perfume or the like. The smell is relaxing, he thinks, and wonders if it would help with his restlessness. 

Woodtucked under his arm, he jogs back over to the trail, axe held carefully in his hands. It’s quickly growing dark and he half regrets stopping, but he doubts they are very far away or far off the path. A little ways down the trail, he realizes that he’s alone -- it’s a welcome break from the ever present chatter of their group. 

Eventually, he can hear the tell-tale chatter of the others -- which is great, because it’s gotten too dark to see clearly and he had lost track of the path a while back. He pushes through the underbrush, ducking under pine fronds and climbing over rotting logs and praying he’s heading mostly towards camp.

The warm glow of the campfire comes into view, and he breathes a sigh of relief. He hated travelling at night if only because he lost any sense of where he was -- his direction was decent enough, but everything else blurred together in the dark. 

He pushes through the last of the foliage -- it had grown thick through this last little bit, and he scowls. His foot catches on a rock or root and he stumbles the last little step, luckily not making a fool of himself as he finds himself in the clearing the group has claimed for camp. After staring at each other for a moment, Hyrule laughs, covering his mouth. 

“Why do you have a stick?” Twilight asks, staring at him incredulously. “Wild said you had to get something?”

Sky nods, furrowing his brow. 

“Yeah, I wanted some of the wood?”

Twi stares at him a moment before blinking and shrugging, sending a half-annoyed glance Wild’s way. Some of the others are chuckling, and he frowns. 

“What?”

“You’ve got a little something in your hair, Sky.”

He raises a hand to his hair, running his fingers through the mess, and snags them almost immediately on something or other. Hissing, he pulls the strands apart and comes away with a few needles. A quick pat reveals more of them stuck throughout his hair, and he groans. 

“What do you want to bet his hair is stuck together?” Legend says, grinning, and the others laugh.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love cedar forests,,,, so much,, they smell nice,,, they look pretty,, big trees,,,,, what more could you want from a forest? Add some ferns and mossy rocks and boom I'd stay there forever. 
> 
> Anyways more self indulgent Sky content because I can. I'm most definitely about to go draw Sky showing back up at camp because that mental image is,,,, so good. 
> 
> If you catch any typos, please let me know! I don't bite :D


	10. dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sky is alone, in the dark, and he can’t shake the feeling that something has gone wrong. 
> 
> TW: Major character death, associated gore, burning of body (not explicit). Please take care of yourself!

He doesn’t know where they are. The panic doesn’t quite hit him at first, while his head reels and he looks around blearily. He vaguely feels as if he may throw up but manages to push himself to his feet, leaning against the nearest tree. Once his vision straightens out he finds himself in a dense forest he can’t recognize. He frowns. 

“Anoyone recognize where we are?”

He is met with silence.

Alone. Figures. He calls out for them a few times, heart racing, but is met with no response. He could handle himself, sure, but this had never happened before. Glancing around warily, he draws his sword and picks a random direction, praying to Hylia that he finds the others soon. 

There’s no path, no guide, no hint at anything. The sun has grown ever lower and soon it will be dark out, the forest altogether too quiet for the time of day. He hums to himself, if only to fill the uncomfortable silence, and grips his sword so tightly his knuckles are white. Were he with someone else, he would suggest slowing down and setting up camp now, but he has been afforded no such luxury and instead presses on. The ever-presnet anxiety he carries with him has risen eagarly, rolling over him in thick waves he can do little to dismiss. Something is going to go horribly wrong, he thinks, but he’s not so sure it’s just the anxiety talking. 

He huddles by his hastily built fire, knees drawn up to his chest. The forest has grown a little louder, thankfully, as night had fallen, but it’s still far too silent. Despite how tired he grows, sleep still evades him. He drops his chin to his knees, staring into the depths of his crackling fire. 

He must have started to fall asleep at some point, because he is taken completely by surprise when someone stumbles into his little camp. Their steps are uneven, dragging over the ground, and he has a hand on his sword in an instant. Within a moment he’s on his feet, blade pointed at his potential assailant. 

“Sky,” Time croaks out, and Sky is scrambling to catch him as he pitches forward. 

“Woah- what happened? Time? Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” Time coughs, punctuated with blood, and a chilling fear washes over Sky. 

“What’s wrong?” He says without room for argument, and Time goes slack in his grip. Carefully, he helps him down to the ground. The older hero coughs again, more blood spilling past his lips, and he weakly wipes at it. 

“Got ambushed by a particularly lucky group of lizalfos.”

Sky’s eyes widen, just now noticing how Time’s hand grip just beneath the pit of his arm, stained crimson.

“Let me get a fairy,” he says, willing himself into motion, and Time grimaces at his back. His leather satchel, which he had been lucky enough to have been carrying when they switched, is tucked up against a tree trunk, and he snatches it from the ground. 

“Come on,” he mutters, digging through it frantically. He knows there’s a fairy in there, because he had only just caught it a few days ago — the bottle he finds is empty. His heart drops so violently, he sways, a cloying panic rising in his throat. 

“It’s here, it’s here, I know it’s somewhere-“

He turns the bag over, emptying it onto the ground and dropping to his knees to sort through it. Behind him, Time coughs again, followed by a low, pained groan. 

“Where is it?” He shouts, half hysterical, tossing his things around. 

“Sky,” Time wheezes, and he turns to him, still looking for supplies he already knows are missing. “I don’t think I’m walking away from this one.” He smiles weakly, but the blood smeared across his chin ruins the reassurance he was trying for. 

“You can’t talk like that,” Sky says, stumbling over to his side, and Time shakes his head. 

“My ocarina,” he pauses, drawing in a shuddering breath, “it isn’t working. And my masks are with Epona-“

“What are you-“

“Tell- tell the others I’m sorry. And if- if you see Malon again,” he frowns, swallowing back his fear and confusion. “Tell her I love her. And that I tried so hard to get back to her.” 

Time coughs again, the blood starkly crimson against the silver of his breastplate, and Sky scrambles to undo the clasps of his armor. 

“No, no, you’re not going to die. You don’t need to give me messages. You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.” 

Time wheezes again, even weaker than before and Sky manages to get his pauldron off, tossing it aside. If he can just get to the wound, maybe he can staunch the flow of blood, buy them some more time. He works at the leather, cursing the armor’s security, and Time’s head drops back. The armor comes apart with a pop and he yanks it off of him, not caring where it lands. The wound is gaping, Time’s tunic beyond soaked through. How much force had it taken to drive a weapon through his ribs? Time groans, trying to smile again as Sky yanks his tunic over his head and presses it to the wound. All at once the tension in Time’s body gives, arms dropping from where they’d been holding his torso. 

A tear rolls down his cheek as his eye goes glassy, staring indefinitely up at the stars above. At first, it’s all Sky can do to stare down at the limp body in his lap, frozen in disbelief. No, wasn’t going to try and lie to himself. He slumps forward, hand over his mouth, and cries. 

It’s dark out, and Sky is alone once more. 

He can’t keep his body. The smell of blood and death would only attract more monsters. He does his best to wipe the blood from his face, and once he covers the wound up it almost looks as if he’s only asleep. Robotically, he goes through the motions of it all, refusing to let himself think too hard now. 

He has to find somewhere to put him to rest, he thinks, and before he leaves he ties his empty bottles to his wrist so he can hear if something tries to take him. He won’t stray too far, right now. 

Not even ten minutes later he comes across a peaceful little lake, an old wooden boat tied to a nearby tree. He nearly laughs, hysterical, at the irony. 

In Skyloft, they hadn’t buried their dead. There hadn’t been room. Instead, they sent them off in boats set alight, hoping their remains would be swept away by the currents and wind. 

Time is heavy, but Sky is numb to the strain. He tries not to look at his face. He sets him gently in the boat, Fi lighting his way. He can tell that she too, is grieving, the power that usually flows bright and strong now sluggish and dim. The moon watches as he lines the boat with green boughs and what few flowers he can find; it watches as he finds Time’s ocarina and sets it between folded hands. 

He looks peaceful, he thinks. In retrospect, it had all happened so horribly fast — one minute he was alone, and the next Time was dying in his arms. The dingy old boat somehow looks beautiful, and he tries not to think about it. He sniffs, staring down at his work, and tries not to think too hard about it. The flint and steel in his hand is heavy as he kneels beside the boat, striking them into the pyre he’d built at his feet. It catches, flames licking hungrily at the dry wood, and he stands, wiping his eyes. 

“Rest easily now and find yourself at peace,” he murmurs absently, relying on muscle memory to carry him through the words. “May the Goddess draw you into Her embrace and lead you to your next life. Go well, and do not worry.” 

It’s a small message, sure, but he remembers being small again and hearing the words spill from his mouth for the first time, still unsure of what they were for. The fire flickers, spreading eagerly, and he pushes it out into the water. 

There is a lonely figure, standing at the shore watching it burn. Their features are indistinguishable in the dark, but their posture looks decidedly forlorn. 

“Sky?” 

The figure doesn’t turn, arms wrapped around himself. 

“What’s going on?” 

“He’s dead,” Sky says, devoid of emotion, and the others look out upon what they now realize is a funeral pyre. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve watched BBC’s Merlin, the inspiration for this was all the times he had to watch someone he loved die in front of him and then send them on, all alone. Hits me right in the feels :’) I haven’t glanced at the next few prompts but they’ll likely be more light-hearted because I’m in the mood for fluff as of right now. 
> 
> Again, please tell me if you catch any mistakes <3


End file.
